


Peppermint Marshmallows Are Not A Food Group

by Enicia24



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, especially those peppermint muthafuckers, tony is sleep deprived and that is my reason for him deciding, yeah let's set up a trap for the assasin, yo i love me some goddamn marshmallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enicia24/pseuds/Enicia24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Look all I know is that Tony loves these marshmallows, and maybe James falls a little bit in love with him at first sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peppermint Marshmallows Are Not A Food Group

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kurro-ecchi.tumblr.come](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kurro-ecchi.tumblr.come).



> So this was gonna start off as kid fic. Like I legit had an outline that had the last scene of this as the begining then Christmas morning trying to sleep in from the kids, Let's go fucking ice skating!!!, Tony look at how cute our children are!!, CUDDLING. Yet alas I was like hmm let's refresh on the many likes of my giftee and I read her stuff again felt confident to write then my brain went orrrrr we could just go balls to the wall for some goddamn marshmallows.

The asset had been given a name.

No.

The asset had found his name. It was his and his to do with.

Every reflection for weeks after the museum had brought the picture of a man, James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky a loud voice would whisper, Jimmy a soft sigh of contentment, to the forefront of his mind along with a deluge of information. Cold hard facts stated in the exhibit.

They were a relief. Facts and not feelings, or rather not the feelings that went with the facts.

At times he would try on the different names that seemed to come with being James Buchanan Barnes. Stopping a bar fight, that spilled into a back alley, that the young man could definitely not win. Bringing in the firewood for the rancher who gave him a job in the dead of winter. Seeing the enemy, no Captain America, no no Steve, Steve oh God STEVE!

_Bucky_!

-

“You could have asked before bringing him here Steve.” Tony muttered around his cup. It was the most wonderful time of the year; Pepper was in Tokyo, there were peppermint marshmallows in his coffee, and the Winter Soldier was in the Hulk containment room of his tower. “Jarvis, order more, no all of these marshmallows.”

“Tony.”

“I am an adult.”

“I’m not questioning that, right now,” The last part was said under his breath, and he let out a huff of laughter as Tony squinted at him over his marshmallows. “But you are the one who told me I would have a place to come if I ever I needed to.”

“Ughhh, guilting me with my own words, Rogers, how could you?”

“It’s not guilting if it’s true.”

“Bullshit. You and I both know you don’t believe that. Just like you and I both know you’re the sarcastic jerk that no one would expect,” Tony said, shoving a mug into Steve’s hands. He’d been holding the second cup when he came in and Steve had assumed Tony was passing by on a refill, but it held hot chocolate with more of the tiny pink and white marshmallows that were in Tony’s own drink. “I’m not saying you can’t stay here. I’m just saying call next time, before you bring an assassin with you into my home, I would like to be prepared.”

“Bet that’s what Coulson said when Clint brought Natasha in.”

“I bet Coulson didn’t still have dents in one of his highly sensitive suits of armor from the assassin his asshole friend brought home.”

-

When he came to, program dictated he immediately rise and carry out the mission.

The mission, it it was…

The handler did not designate a mission.

 

 

There was no handler.

He

James

He was James Buchanan Barnes and he did not have a handler. He did not have a mission assigned to him. He was his own asset not someone else’s.

This was the common thought process he fought through during most waking of the past months. Sleeping was so similar to not being. And not being was the common denominator in his state of awareness for so long that he had to fight through the initial desire to jump into the world of consciousness and work until optimal resting time to keep _the asset_ in perfect working condition. But months of this waking and working through his being his own self, whatever that meant now, kept that reflex at bay.

Rather than rise from the bed, he tensed, thought through the re-realization, and then asked himself what bed he was on.

Light blue walls. Semi-gloss, high quality. Easy to clean.

White ceiling and white sheets.

And that was it.

Well that and an open doorway.

His eyes narrowed and he sat up keeping his stare on the only entrance/exit to the room.

It was a trap.

The dimly lit corridor of locked doors leading to an elevator whose doors closed and started moving down supported his assessment. When it stopped the only place to go was forward to a brightly lit area separated by glass walls, reinforced bullet proof, and another open door. The hunched figure gesturing with a strange pvc form at some kind of robot that was making a series of distressed beeps, was perhaps a trap.

“Come on Dummy, you can’t keep taking all the purple wires. I need those for the coding system to work. How am I going to convince people it’s a bomb unless it has a jumble of colored wires?”

A bomb?

Some thing must have alerted the man to his presence because the brunette turned towards him and a bright slightly manic grin grew on his face.

“Well if it isn’t tall, dark, and history conspiracy. ” Some part of him perked up to admire the beauty of the man surrounded by mechanisms, lights, and marshmallows? Yes, definitely a trap.

-

Steve woke at almost the same time every day. It was a habit still ingrained in his body from the time in an army camp; you get up early to get the hot water and freshest breakfast. This did not mean he enjoyed it.

Yes, Steve, could for all rights and purposes be considered a morning person. And he did enjoy near peace before the city became the great push and pull of too many people in too little space with too much to do. But he also appreciated the reminder that there were so many people around and look at how much the world had grown in the time he wasn’t there.

So he would spend anywhere from a few seconds to ten minutes laying in bed, languishing is how Tony would put it, muttering at having to get up and enjoying the warm without a hint of cold, that had become his new normal. Steve would then go about his morning routine of bathroom, dressing, food, and checking on Bucky.

“Jarvis, was there any trouble?” Steve didn’t really need to ask this, if anything had happened Jarvis would have woken him up for it, but asking and having any trouble be denied started the day with something positive.

“Nothing negative to report Mister Rogers.”

Steve nodded at the ceiling. No matter how many times Tony had told them Jarvis was everywhere it felt nice to have a place to direct his conversation rather than just speaking to the air. Also that’s where the majority of Jarvis’ visible cameras and speakers were. So really it made sense to speak towards the place most of his answers were coming from.

He came to a stop in front of the monitors outside the Hulk room and looked to see if Bucky was awake.

He wasn’t there.

“Jarvis, where is Bucky?” Steve said in a strangled voice.

“Mister Barnes is with Sir, in the workshop.”

“What?”

-

He had been beckoned into the room, It’s my work shop, by the smaller man, Tony just call me Tony. It felt much larger than he would have guessed from all the **things** in the room. There were piles of metal parts and tables crowded with papers and tools. Sheet metal was stacked against a far wall next to a…

It looked almost like a tree of some kind.

A tree made of rebar, an engine, some chairs, an assortment of Iron Man suit parts, and many other unidentifiable pieces of metal.

There was a blender on the top of the tree.

Tony noticed his stare at the blender-topped tree and a proud smile replaced the manic one.

“The kids thought it was a good idea, and who am I to stop on their creativity? Well there was the one time with the nanobots, but that was for the safety of the world. I don’t care how well you would have supervised them Jarvis, something would have gone wrong.” The last comment was said to the air.

“Blender?”

“Yeah, Dummy insisted, it’s his second favorite.” Tony shot a smile towards the one armed robot he had previously been arguing with. “It was hell getting it to stay up there.  Nearly fell off the ladder a few times because You was too enthusiastic about getting the arc-lights up there too. Ran over Butterfingers’ popcorn chain twice, which meant a time out. And have you ever tried to give someone a timeout when they’re beeping at you mournfully every 2.374 seconds for optimal guilt manufacturing. I swear sometimes I really do want to send them to a community college.”

“It’s tilting.”

“That’s the beauty of it though. If a strong enough vibration hits it’s going down, no denying that. But until then it’s a precarious ornament on an already dangerous family tradition. Or at least it would do that if I hadn’t stuck the god damn thing up there with a special adhesive.” Tony said pushing him into a seat.

He watched as the brunette ran a hand through his hair and pushed two mugs into a microwave. One minute and seventeen seconds later a hot mug was pushed into his hands as Tony swept a hand over the table to collect some marshmallows and drop them in his cup.

“So, you want me to call you Bucky, James, Frosty the not so Snowman?”

He stared at Tony for a moment. What did he want to be called? Wasn’t that the question he had been trying to answer himself every day since being given that choice. Bucky was so steeped in history and emotions that he couldn’t quite, didn’t quite want to, sort out right then. Jimmy was held in his mother’s right and pure memory; he hadn’t feel right and pure in a long time. Most other names were a part of those who didn’t give him the choice of anything.

“James. My name is James.”

“Well James, what do you know about shooting small squishy projectiles out of a plastic blow gun?”

James smiled, if this was a trap, it was the best trap he had ever fallen for.

-

Steve stood in the elevator waiting for it to get to Tony’s workshop.

“Jarvis why didn’t you tell me Bucky got out and to Tony.”

“I did say there was nothing negative to report, Mister Rogers. Sir had the matter safely in hand.”

The doors opened and he jogged to the open door. There was Bucky, and Tony. Sitting and talking. Surrounded by marshmallows. For the moment Steve forgot being worried for both of his friends.

“Where did all these marshmallows come from?”

-

“You heard me order all of the marshmallows, Steve.”

“That doesn’t explain why they are everywhere.” Steve replied with a sweeping gesture to the entire workshop. Which James followed and saw that yes, there were in fact pink and white swirled marshmallows everywhere. In fact there were so many that, he narrowed his eyes at Tony’s back.

“You used marshmallows to stick the blender to the tree.” Tony’s back stiffened and Steve’s eyes shot to the tree and its subsequent blender. His shoulders fell and his head followed till it was laying on a layer of tiny peppermint puffs on the table.

Tony laughed at Steve’s reaction and agreed with James’s assessment.

“One of my finer feats of engineering if I do say so myself.” Tony said as he set another cup of hot chocolate next to Steve’s head. He lifted the man’s head and gathered a few marshmallows to put in the cup. “I’m thinking of starting a holiday themed glue line, what do you think James?”

Steve groaned. He should have known Bucky and Tony meeting was the going to be the worst best idea ever.

-

(2 Years Later)

“Tony.”

The whisper came with an edge of amusement that was greatly softened by the contentness that rolled off of James’ form. Tony grinned as his suit disassembling stride brought him to stand two inches from his husband. No doubt in his mind that James had stood at precisely the closest distance to the last piece of tech coming off of Tony, while staying out of swing radius of mechanical arms.

The two men met with a peck on the lips and an exclamation of glee over hot chocolate.

“You missed midnight snack attack.”

“But you saved me some, ooo with the marshmallows too. It’s decided, I have the best husband.” Tony said with a grand gesture of his arms. He reached for the mug which James pulled away from his hands.

“That was ever in question?” James said with an over dramatic sigh.

“Just restating a well known fact,” Tony said slipping around him to grab the warm mug. He took a deep pull from it and sighed. “A very well known fact.”

“It’s almost as well known as the fact that I have the greatest husband ever.” James said, pulling the shorter man into his side.

“Well then I don’t have the best husband.”

“Oh? And why not?” Asked James as he opened the patio door.

“Because,” Said Tony slipping past him into the warm penthouse. “There are so many adjectives out there, best is not enough. I mean there’s amazing, beautiful, amazingly beautiful, wonderful, helpful, loving, compassionate, terrifyingly important, sexy as fuck. Really I could go on.”

“Genius, thoughtful, stubborn,” James followed Tony inside and pulled him to his chest. “Everything I ever wanted.” He placed a gentle kiss on his lips and held him.

“The music was an exceedingly good touch. I guess I’ll have to forfeit.” James laughed.

“You didn’t even let me get to the part where you made a Santa themed suit and fly it around on Christmas Eve to make kids happy.”


End file.
